


Flux

by QueenIshtar



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Telepathic Sex, Trek Rarepair Swap, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenIshtar/pseuds/QueenIshtar
Summary: Tuvok's love language is acts of service.For Janeway and Tuvok the shift from friends to lovers is an easy journey to make.There’s nothing as delicious as the uncertainty of the first time.
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway/Tuvok (Star Trek)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 53
Collections: Trek Rarepair Swap - Round 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShayneyL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShayneyL/gifts).



> This work is for ShayneyL, who requested Janeway/Tuvok for round 33 of the Star Trek Rare Pair Swap on Tumblr.

It was on a class M planet circling binary stars, in another man’s arms that Janeway first entertained the idea. Sure, she had considered it once, maybe twice. But never too deeply, and never for very long.  


Another shuttle down, another long wait for Voyager’s rescue. Two suns had meant two sunsets leading into a deep, bone chilling night. Ayala had been warm. With no life signs on the planet larger than an insect there was no need to sleep in shifts. So, under a silver Federation issue emergency blanket she pressed herself against her second in charge of ships security. _For warmth,_ she tells herself. _For warmth._ He gasps at her cold hands as they slide over his smooth warm skin.  


“Don’t tell Chakotay.” Janeway says, her voice warm whiskey, creating secrets without guilt in the cold night.  


Ayala laughs deep in his chest and she feels it rumble through him. “It’s okay. I’ve known Chakotay for a very long time. It’s not him I’d be worried about. I have more concerns about Tuvok finding out.”  


“Tuvok?”  


“Yes. Tuvok.”

\-------------------

Janeway’s back on Voyager with a clean bill of health and strict orders from the Doctor, that she will ignore, to rest up for a few days. Tuvok tries to extend this rest time by guiding her through a Vulcan relaxation meditation followed by a game oh Kal-Toh.  


She and Tuvok have a comfortable relationship. For her, it’s the safest option to ease her fragile human need for companionship. It’s easy to end up in each other quarters, meditating or reading together, a simple cure for the loneliness of deep space. The silences are comfortable. Even when she is too tired for conversation it’s nice to know that she has a space where she can speak freely, without judgment. Without having to play the role of the captain. A space where she can breathe. Just for a moment.  


Sometimes she isn’t sure if Tuvok is lonely too, or simply finding ways to make sure she eats something or gets some rest. Drink something other than coffee. It becomes even less clear when she wakes up, well past the time he’d normally be asleep, with her head on his shoulder, a blanket wrapped around her and his eyes still glued to his padd.  


Tuvok is service orientated. It shouldn’t surprise her really, Vulcan culture being what it is. Being able to show someone that you care, that they’re important to you, without expressing any emotion is a difficult task. But in his acts of service Tuvok gains something too. She is aware that he misses his wife, misses having someone to care for. It seems that in every cup of coffee brewed, every meal replicated, every piece of gifted advice is the connection he craves but is unable to truly express.  


_Is loneliness logical?_ Janeway asks herself. _Or is it more illogical to deny its existence, knowing that it has the capacity to overwhelm?_  


Janeway had once told him in jest after he had cleaned and re-calibrated both her phasers that acts of service must be his love language. Tuvok had raised an eyebrow, told her that was illogical and reminded her that as a Vulcan, love languages do not apply to him. She chose to hold her tongue when she found him hand grinding coffee beans for her the next time she had entered his quarters.

\--------------------

The mission had turned into a disaster. A trade agreement negotiated with a welcoming species had quickly soured once they met Seven of Nine. No amount of reasoning with people who had rebuilt everything on a brand new world because of the Borg, would help them understand that Seven was equally a victim. After they’d scanned Voyager close enough to realise the ship was full of scavenged Borg technology, nothing Janeway could say would have them believe anything other than these Voyagers were in alliance with the Borg. And Seven, beautiful, unapologetic Seven, who’s assistance these people were glad to have only moments before, offered an origin story which fell on deaf ears. The ensuing firefight had blown out almost a third of the ship’s relays, including the gravity plating on parts of decks 11 to 15 and the sonic showers on the starboard side of the ship.  


When she entered her quarters to the sound of the sonic shower Janeway found herself glad that Tuvok was still there. She had given him permission to use her shower before sending him off duty to get some rest. When Chakotay had suggested she do the same, not more than half an hour later, she knew how badly she needed it by how disinclined she was to argue. Sitting on the edge of her bed turned into a flop backwards before she could even remove her shoes.  


When Tuvok emerged from her bathroom, barefoot in a wide shouldered Vulcan robe, Janeway patted the bed next to her. He lowered himself to the bed, ever so gracefully, before laying back next to her to let out a long exhale of breath. Not a sigh. Vulcan’s don’t _sigh._  


“That was a mess.” Janeway pressed a hand over her closed eyes for a moment, before it slid down, coming to rest on her chest. “Seven.” _Beautiful, unapologetic, Seven._  


“Indeed.”  


“Do you think maybe we should put her in a uniform? Give her a field commission?” Head turned, eyes on Tuvok, Janeway explained her reasoning. “To make Seven appear a little less Borg and little more identifiable as one of us?”  


Tuvok turned his head to meet her gaze, brow furrowed. “You know as well as I that it would be a poor fit.”  


He’s talking about more than the garment. She knows that Tuvok, as usual, is completely right. Seven isn’t ready for that. She’s still finding her way. If they tried to hold her to Starfleet standards so soon, before she even properly grasps the reasons behind them, they would be setting her up to fail. Janeway sighs.  


Holding his gaze is comforting, and she becomes aware of just how close they are. Janeway considers wrapping her arms around her friend and pulling him against her. She wonders what he would do. Would he fall backwards through the layers of their friendship to respond from a place of logic? Remove himself emotionally and remind her that as her friend he would gladly comfort her, because he understands that she’s only human? It wouldn’t be the first time they had hugged. Or slept next to each other. But it would be her first time holding him in a place as intimate as her own bed. The first time touching her friend with lustful intentions. It would definitely not be the first time she’d tested his boundaries.  


Tuvok looks tired. He starts to speak, and hesitates. Curiosity peaked, Janeway rolls onto her side to face him.  


“What?”  


Prompted, he continues. “You may find, that once Seven is more emotionally mature, it is beneficial that she is not under your command.”  


Janeway opens her mouth and closes it again. She knows what Tuvok is suggesting. The tension between her and Seven is palpable. She groans and rolls onto her back again, pressing her forearm over her eyes.  


“Don’t.” A word. A warning.  


Janeway doesn’t want to think about that, not now. It’s all too complicated when she’s this tired. It’s not a place she particularly wants to direct her thoughts to, even more so when her oldest friend is lying so close next to her.  


He’s radiating Vulcan warmth and he smells good from the shower. Instead, she thinks about how comforting it would be to be in his arms, even if she isn’t sure if it’s fair to use him for her emotional needs. _Is she using him for her emotional needs?_ At this point she can’t be sure if her motivation is nothing more than pheromones, a reaction to the spreading warmth between her legs.  


When she realises that she’d gotten lost in her own thoughts and turns back to him, his face relaxed, she can’t tell if he is asleep or not.  


Janeway reaches out, one delicate hand on his shoulder. “Stay?”  


One word. A request, a revelation of her vulnerability. Definitely not a command, she isn’t being his Captain right now. Janeway doesn’t meet his eyes, sitting up to pull off her boots. She tries to ignore her shame, but it’s there, a constant. Guilt combined with lust. She doesn’t see him nod, but feels her touch reciprocated, a firm hand on her back before he pushes himself up the bed to rest his head on a pillow. They sleep soundly, chastely beside each other, and in the morning Janeway has no regret about her inaction, because he gave her everything she needed in the moment with only his presence.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s cold. Being dragged from sleep is disorientating, the sensation only passing when Janeway feels her body being lowered onto the soft surface of Tuvok’s bed. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but she’d stretched out languidly on the floor, toes pointed and back arched after meditating. She’d been far too comfortable, curling back in with her head on Tuvok’s thigh as he’d cleaned and wiped down his meditation lamp, and before she knew it sleep had dragged her under. Now though, sleep seems to have flown from her body leaving her wide awake, watching the bathroom door close behind her friend.  


Uniform jacket and pants hit the floor after a writhing dance, Kathryn sitting upwards at no point in the whole process. Warm covers are burrowed into and socks toes off, lost to Tuvok’s bed, new ones to be replicated in the morning. She’s grateful to be here, content with his decision to not wake her. Lately she hasn’t been sure of what she wants at all, confused and questioning herself, her motivations. Her desires. But languishing in the warmth of her friend’s bed waiting for him to return to her, she knows. _It’s this. This is what I want._ The companionship that comes from the intimate knowing of another. From knowing _Tuvok._ The warmth of being wanted, of all the ways shows how much he cares for her.  


When Tuvok slides under the covers next to her, there’s no hesitation in Janeway as she curls closer to him. Dressed in only his undershirt and briefs she can smell him, and he smells good. He smells like something she _needs._  


“Thank you.” She murmurs, her voice a liar, sounding closer to sleep then she really is.  


“I didn’t want to disturb you.”  


Kathryn senses his momentary discomfort. She senses there is more he wants to say, but the words elude him. Instead, one arm circles her, safely over the covers.  


She knows there needs to be a conversation. They _should_ have had a conversation. She should have initiated it by now, even though a part of her had been denying where this is going. It’s not a conversation they should have in bed. It’s a light of day, sober conversation. And she knows, _she really knows,_ that it’s morally ambiguous of her to have it now, this far down the slope. There’s so much to discuss, so much that this will affect. Command structure. The delta quadrant and the daily rituals of life. Contraception and arranging that so that no one, not even the Doctor puts the pieces together. Vulcan mating telepathy, and T’Pel. _Oh gods, T’Pel._  


Instead, she touches him. Vulcans are touch telepaths, and with her body she knows she’s communicating everything she needs to in this particular moment. She can almost convince herself that through her hands on his warm, smooth skin they’re having those conversations. _Almost._

\--------------------

Janeway awakens with a start, manic, muddled dreams slipping from the dark corners of her mind. She’s awake, heart pounding, bedding strewn around her. Tuvok stirs, and she pulls the blankets back up over herself. The process is hindered by his arm wrapping around her waist to pull her in. She doesn’t fight it, savouring his warmth, the way he smells. He squeezes her tightly for a moment, only a moment before they settle pressed together, legs intertwined. With both hands curled in front of her, she presses her face into his chest. The angle is awkward, but she stays still, holding herself there. Waiting for her heart rate to slow down, aware of her situation. Hyper aware of her body. Of his.  


She can’t settle. Tiny movements, unrhythmic breaths. And a heart rate that won’t slow down, but not for the same reasons that woke her up. Tuvok stirs too, fingers twitching slightly, breath becoming shallower, long legs stretching out. Eyes fluttering open.  


“I’m sorry.” Janeway murmurs “Did I wake you?”  


“Not exactly.” _Not directly._ “I sensed your dream.”  


“Oh.”  


Tuvok presses his face to the top of her head, into her soft hair, breathing her in. “Sleep.”  


She tries. Oh, she tries. Despite deep breaths and calming thoughts, sleep eludes her. That desire replaced by another, stronger desire. It still feels strange to her. New. Foreign. But not unwanted. She pulls an arm out from between them to wrap it around his waist. Her hand finds heated skin and she knows that Tuvok is awake by the tension he still holds in his body. His eyes don’t open, but he nuzzles his face into her hair again. Kathryn feels him relax against her, tucking her under his chin. She slides her leg further between his, almost pressing her hips against his. She wants to, desperately. The throbbing in her groin is almost matched by her heart rate. Her fingers ghost over his skin, soft, slight movements tracing circles on his lower back. Kathryn stretches the arm trapped between them down along her leg, the back of her hand brushing across his groin. He’s hard. Her breath catches in her throat. She knows that she shouldn’t be surprised, but she’s caught off guard by it anyway.  


Her mind racing, doubts pushing at her, she presses the back of her hand against his erection again. This time with purpose, seeking confirmation. Tuvok moves his hips towards her in response. Her heart pounds in her chest. She needs to know that he wants this as much as she does. She needs to know if he wants to do this at all.  


“Are…” Janeway’s voice shakes. She’s not in command of anything right now. “Are we going to do this?”  


“It seems we already are.” There is no hesitation in his voice.  


He nuzzles into her hair again, this time leaving a soft kiss on her hairline. Gentle, with no trepidation, as though he’d been wanting to do so all along. It seems that, unsurprisingly, Tuvok has already thought this through. Already made this decision. He had just been waiting for her to be ready. Now, faced with this becoming a reality, she finds she is too.  


Stretching against him Kathryn raises her face to gently kiss his neck. His breath catches and she does it again, higher. Her lips brush the spot beneath his ear and a shiver runs through his body, the movement pressing his erection against her hand. She strokes him gently with the back of her fingers before sliding her hand up onto his hip, using it to pull him against her. She grinds herself up against him, pressing her thigh further up between his legs. Using it to hold them both in place as she brings her face up to kiss him. And when she does, when she _finally_ kisses her friend, it’s everything. It’s all consuming, and for a moment her mind stills, all conscious thoughts stop. The way Tuvok kisses her back makes her feel foolish for ever doubting if he wanted this, for doubting herself. His lips are warm and soft, and he moves them against her own in a way that sends electricity racing through her body. His hands trace up her spine under her singlet, driven by a need to touch her that seemingly rivals Kathryn’s own. She pushes her hips into his as the kiss deepens, back arching as she moves against him.  


She needs this. She needs _Tuvok._ She’s almost surprised by how quickly it all came to this point, how close to the surface this was for her. How little it took for her walls to come down. How easy it was for her to throw off their ranks and climb into her married friend’s bed. This isn’t a move she should make lightly, but it’s difficult to apply logic to desire at the best of times, let alone when Tuvok’s erection is pressing into her thigh and his lips are trailing their way across her jawline.  


Kathryn presses her hands against his abdomen, his body all tight muscles under smooth skin as she pushes his tee shirt up. Tuvok partially sits up to skillfully pull it off, over his head with one hand. The moment it’s gone Kathryn pulls him down on top of her, the Vulcan warmth of his bare chest against her feels incredible. His lips find hers again, mouths parting, soft tongues sliding over each other. When they pull apart, he leans on one elbow to look down at her hungrily. His mask of logical indifference is gone, control not lost, but deemed unimportant in this moment here with her. He is safe here with Kathryn. He threads one hand through her auburn hair.  


“Kathryn… I will be able to sense your mind as we do this.” It’s his turn to ask for consent. Now he needs to be sure. “There is a chance that I won’t be able to suppress my telepathic abilities for the entire time.”  


“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Her voice is low, heavy with need. “I want you, all of you.”  


Tuvok nods in acknowledgment before kissing her again. His mouth moves down over her hypersensitive body and it’s wonderful, soft and warm, finding its own way across her skin. Tuvok’s body is being driven by instincts rather than logic. His knees spread her legs apart, pressing his full length against her, separated only by two thin layers of Starfleet issue cotton. She rocks her hips back and forth underneath him slowly, enjoying the feeling of his body as it drags over hers, his erection sliding over her again and again. She’s quick to pull off her singlet and Tuvok’s hand moves to cup one breast, his lips leaving the hollow of her neck to trace down, over her clavicle, to find her nipple. Kathryn takes it all in, greedily. It’s been too long since she’s been touched like this, since she’s felt as desired as this. Too long since she’s been with someone she feels as safe with as she does with Tuvok.  


He is all warm hands and wet mouth as he moves down Kathryn’s body. She feels no shame as she opens herself wide to him, his fingers stroking the growing wet patch on her underwear. He kisses her through the fabric, deep, firm kisses, his mouth moving over her as his fingers trace up her thighs. She whimpers at the sensation, then bucks her hips up into his face and makes an impatient noise. She is only human.  


Tuvok pulls her underwear off slowly, agonizingly so, before bringing his lips back into place. She is so much sweeter without the barrier of fabric between them, her smell fills his nostrils, her taste on his lips as they linger over her wet skin. His tongue slides over her and she arches her back, pushing herself against his face. She brings a hand to her chest, thumb lazily tracing over her own nipple, and when she looks back down she finds that Tuvok is watching her touch herself, eyes dark. Kathryn knows now that she was a fool for ever question whether he wanted this as much as she did. Slender fingers slide over slick flesh, one each side of Tuvok’s perfectly centered tongue, squeezing gently together to add pressure to her sensitive bundle of nerves. Tuvok’s hands and mouth are infinitely skilled, and Kathryn has given up trying to hold her tongue. She lets out a low moan as those same fingers dip lower and slowly press inside, softly exploring. They brush over a place inside her that makes her shiver. She gasps. It’s intense. It would be too much, too sensitive and verging on painful if she weren’t completely at ease, if it were anyone else. If it were anyone she wasn’t as receptive to as Tuvok. It comes to her with a start that he knows this, he must be reading her. Not just her body language telling him she needs this, that in this moment she is his. He must be sensing her mind, her thoughts about what she wants and where to touch her. His fingers start to work her harder. Kathryn’s hips come up to meet them rhythmically, pushing herself into his hand on every thrust. His lips apply suction over her sensitive nub as his tongue teases out a pattern. It’s good. It’s incredible. But she knows her body, knows that as compatible as they are and despite how skilled a lover Tuvok is, this isn’t going to work for her. What he’s doing right now is wonderful for greedily taking in all the pleasure he has to give, but it won’t get her to the place they both want her to go.  


She places her hands on his shoulders to stop him, one hand tracing under his chin to tilt it up to meet her gaze.  


“Please.” She asks breathlessly.  


Her nods in agreement before lavishing a few last licks across her slick flesh, long and slow. Janeway pulls him up to kiss him. He tastes like her, and a small possessive part of her thinks, _good._ She likes her smell on his skin, her taste on his lips. She cups him through the fabric of his underwear, and without missing a beat he begins thrusting into her hand. She lets him rut against her for a moment as she listens to his soft grunts, before sliding her hand inside his underwear to stroke him. His length is hot and hard. He’s wet, fluid leaking from his tip smeared across the fabric, across his skin. Velvet soft and hard as steel, she can feel his pulse through the flesh in her hand. She feels a moment of blankness when he takes it from her hand. One moment of awkward movement has his kicked underwear off, and when she feels him grind over her slick flesh she finds herself moaning. Each thrust of his hips aiming not to penetrate her, but to stroke their bodies together, his shaft between her outer lips smearing their slickness over each other. Kathryn angles her hips to place him at her entrance and he pauses, still as a statue, equally as hard. When he presses inside, Kathryn thrusts herself up onto him, taking him in slowly an inch at a time. When he is completely inside he stills again, and touching his forehead to hers he stifles a groan. Meeting his eyes, Kathryn gasps as in that instant she is suddenly hit with everything Tuvok is.  


Tuvok had been holding back his telepathic abilities. Even though he’d asked permission. Even though she’d told him not to. His mind hits her with full force, and they are one. It’s powerful. He is as wide open to her mentally as she is to him physically. She’s aware of his thoughts, his well repressed emotions as they slip through his wall of logic. His motivations. His desires. Of his need for her, strong enough to make that wall waver. Shame. Guilt mirrored by lust. Redemption, found in the way his weakness for her allows him to give his Captain something that no one else on this ship can, and through this tenuous link to duty he allows logic to drift away from him. It’s a lot for her to take in. She kisses him, needing Tuvok to know that she truly sees him, all of him, for all that he is. Needing him to know that he is so very important to her. If he can lower his stoic Vulcan walls and let go of logic and be with her, like this, then she can put aside the Captain’s mask to find respite from her loneliness, protocols be damned.  


Janeway deepens their kiss, rolling her hips against Tuvok, who gasps as she lets out a low moan. She is acutely aware of the place where they are joined, where he is fully sheathed inside her. It’s a strange sensation, being aware of both of penetrating and being penetrated, but when he starts to move the sensations blend together. She can feel herself fluttering around him with every thrust, he is satin and steel inside her. Kathryn feels like liquid pulsing around him, pinned in place by his hard cock, the only thing that feels solid to her. She moves her body to meet his rhythm, his hips slamming into hers, his cock stroking her deep inside on every thrust. Kathryn finds the soft noises and low grunts he makes as he pounds himself into her infinitely arousing. She never thought she would see her friend like this, and he is beautiful. Naked above her, the stars through the window casting a glow on the fine sheen of sweat coating his dark skin, he is glowing. She needs him, needs him so much. It’s good, incredible, but Kathryn needs more. She bites his neck, gently, letting her teeth scrape over the tender skin below his ear. It’s a request as much as it is an erotic act.  


“Please Tuvok.” Her lips against his ear, she locks her legs together behind his back to bring him down, deeper into her. “Don’t be gentle.”  


A shudder runs through his body at her request. His cock twitches inside her, involuntarily. She feels it swell. The next thing she knows he is hammering into her. Hard and fast. Slamming his hips against hers as he slides into her, just the way she wants it. The way she _needs_ it. The hand in her hair closes into a fist, auburn strands trapped. Tugging her neck back, exposing it to him as his teeth scrape over Kathryn’s skin in kind. She is lost to the sensations of her body. A hand crushes her breast, nipple rolled between nimble fingers and she lets out a gasp that turns into a moan.  


Tuvok slows slightly. He can feel the pressure starting to build and he stalls it, he isn’t ready to fall over that edge yet. Digging her heels into his back Kathryn uses his distraction to roll them over. Flipping Tuvok onto his back she uses her entire small bodyweight to hold him down.  


Pressing Tuvok into the bed, she is glorious. Kathryn’s hair is an auburn halo, back arched, pale breasts thrust forward as she rides him. Her hands dig into his shoulders as she throws her body against his. She is rough, violent with him in a way he couldn’t be with her. Not safely, not with his Vulcan strength. She slams her hips down, head thrown back, taking him deep. The sound of flesh on flesh echoes around them, her moans and Tuvok’s jagged grunts fill the air. Pinning him down by the shoulders, nails digging crescent moons in his skin, Kathryn powerfully rides his cock. She _is_ power, and she takes what she needs from him, each flick of her hips grinding her sensitive flesh over his. She knows through their link that he wants to give her more, his hips slamming upward to meet every thrust as his fingers dig into her hips. He is hers, completely and utterly, and in this moment he would do anything for her. Janeway is just as formidable in his bed as she is on the bridge, and all he can do is worship her.  


Tuvok slides one hand off her hip to cup her mound, pressing a thumb between them, against her slick folds. Her movements deepen, thrusts becoming more grinding and less bouncing as she flicks her engorged nub over his thumb. When her thrusts become short and irregular, matching her ragged breathing, she brings her head down to kiss him. In the end, it’s his expression of devotion that pushes her over the edge. Her hips jerk on their own and a ragged cry wrangles it from her mouth. When her hips start to slow Tuvok pulls her down hard by a hand on the back of her neck and holds her in place. He kisses her deeply and starts thrusting up into her with abandon. His thumb rolls over her swollen, sensitive clit, flicking back and forth and she cries out again. Tuvok isn’t gentle with her, the pressure on her clit is almost painful, but she loves it. She needs more of it. Her moaning is wanton, one solid noise, changing only in pitch, caused by Tuvok’s powerful thrusts. When she starts to thrust back onto Tuvok’s hard cock, fully engaged in acquiring her second orgasm, he knows it’s the beginning of his end. His cock swells inside her, feeling impossibly hard. With his lips on her throat, his teeth sink into the junction between neck and shoulder as he comes. She can feel him filling her, wet and warm and pulsing, and it’s enough to pull her over the edge again. She comes harder this time, tension running through her entire body as her walls clench around his throbbing cock. The sensation is intensified by feeling Tuvok’s own orgasm through their link. She continues to rock against him for a long moment after, still fluttering around his cock, eyes closed as she grounds herself. Relearning where her body ends and where his begins. Waiting for her legs to stop shaking and her breath to catch up. He holds the sides of her face gently, pressing his forehead to hers as he waits for his own composure to return. Kathryn kisses him before she dismounts ungracefully, sliding side wards onto the bed, her thighs slick. She can feel her pulse in the sensitive flesh between her thighs. She feels dazed and overcome by emotion as she considers what they have just done.  


“Tell me,” She asks, breath still ragged “why haven’t we been doing this all along?”  


Kathryn is almost frustrated at herself for not having had done this earlier. Images flash through her mind of returning to Tuvok after a long exhausting day and having him fuck the stress out of her. She thinks of all the times that her life, _their lives,_ could have been easier if they had fallen into bed together. She can envision his hands sliding under her clothes in her ready room, the solid press of his body against the wall of a turbolift. Her legs wrapping around his waist and his tongue in her mouth as he sits her on top of a crate of phaser rifles in the weapons storage room.  


Tuvok raises an eyebrow in response. ‘I think, perhaps, the timing was not right.”  


Kathryn can still sense Tuvok’s mind and can tell that it is only a half truth. Out here alone in the Delta quadrant there had never been a better time. Kathryn understands however that being the captain first and the woman second is what she signed up for. That while he was willing to do absolutely anything for her, it was she who had to ask. She also understands that Tuvok with his Vulcan logic is perhaps the only person onboard that this situation could work with while she is in command. As she curls back against him, settling under the blankets, she pulls his arm over her cooling flesh.  


“Sleep.” He tells her, the image in her mind from their fading link of the coffee he will make in the morning, and the fresh uniform he will replicate for her. And finally, contentedly, she does.


End file.
